


When the walls come tumbling in

by AxisMage



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-16 05:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxisMage/pseuds/AxisMage
Summary: They are annoying, the two of them. Too powerful, sometimes reckless, both of them able to look at him like he's an open book. He hates it. He doesn't want their help, but Jason and Conner are stubborn, and they'll be there for him whether he wants it or not





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Attempt 1 of getting myself out of the dark hole of self disgust that's taken the better of me lately. The prompt for this two weeks really gave me the opportunity to flesh out this idea I've had for months, so hopefully it'll go well XD 
> 
> I apologize beforehand for my vocabulary and grammar. I know I've still got a loooong way to go. I'm trying, I swear I'm trying the hardest and best I can.

****Week 17** **

Red Robin brings the news to the Cave not only with his words but with his wounds. Spoiler and Orphan carry the nearly unconscious figure away from Red Robin´s bike and through the Cave without a word. There is no need to speak anyway. Within seconds of Red Robin being deposited on one of the medical beds, Alfred is at his side. Batman and Robin stalk in right before the painkillers knock Red Robin out.

“Demolished buildings by the south,” he gasps, hands falling away from his bloody suit. “They´re… they´re wreaking havoc. Tried to stop them. Couldn´t… couldn´t… even get… close.” He fades out with the last word, and Alfred pushes everyone back so he can look over the wounds.

“How bad is it?” Batman asks. He can already hear Spoiler and Orphan briefing Robin on the situation. They answered Red´s call for help. When they got there, all they could do was get Red out. There were two people fighting, both of them metas, if the flying and crashing through buildings were any indication. No bystanders in danger, only property damage done. They´re approaching Gotham´s downtown. At most, only ten minutes until they start punching down buildings with people inside.  

“Did you or Orphan get a good look at who we´re dealing with?” Batman asks Spoiler, who hesitates, then gives a sharp nod.

“I saw the lasso,” she says.

Batman glances at Orphan. “Blue and red,” comes the soft and muted voice.

Batman turns in a swoosh of heavy cape. He heads to the table at the far end of the cave and starts clipping batarangs and grappling hooks to his belt. Robin shifts behind him, and Batman´s arm shoots backwards, hand held up to stop him. “No, you´re staying here.”

“You will need me—”

“I won´t, and it´s too dangerous. You saw what they did to Red Robin.”

“As if I would be dumb and clumsy enough to—”

“Robin.”

Robin purses his lips. He huffs. He almost stomps his foot. “I will be monitoring you from the computer. If I sense you are in too much trouble I will head out.”

“Us too,” Spoiler says.

Batman nods. He checks all the pockets in his belts, then makes his way towards the Batmobile.

“Take care of Red Robin,” he says, then the car closes, the cave´s entrance opens and he´s speeding through forest and streets towards the place Red had indicated.

He manages to avoid a falling door by a mere couple of inches when he gets to the site.

He´s cursing under his breath by the time the Batmobile screeches to a halt in the safest and most hidden place he can find. He vaults out of the car, reaches for the grappling hook and is swinging into the closest building that doesn’t look ready to collapse just yet. He melts into the shadows the moment he lands on the rooftop. He glides forward, boots completely silent against the ground. He reaches his vantage point on the rooftop, wraps his cape around him. He brings out his binoculars, then raises his gaze to the sky.

There is a flash of gold, followed by a silver gleam. He hears thunder, knows it has nothing to do with a storm. There´s another golden flash, and this time he manages to see how the lasso cuts through the air and heads in a very specific direction. It meets nothing but thin air. The lasso moves backward, shoots out once more in a different direction. A blur moves through the sky, away from the lasso. The lasso is pulled back and thrown out for a third attempt.

The blur comes to a halt when the lasso finally connects and wraps itself around a muscular arm clad in black and blue. Batman follows the line of the arm to the ample shoulders. He manages to get a clear glimpse of the iconic ‘S’ shield on the wide chest before the figure is pulling on the lasso, then blurring again, and the other figure is now sailing across the sky, crashing into an already pummeled building.

The cracking is massive when the figure crashes. It might as well be an explosion, one that is soon forgotten when the second figure rises from amidst the debris and flies into the air, heads straight for Superman, and takes him down. Batman sees the dull shine of golden and heavy armor on forearms and around the waist of the second figure. He also sees a red cape: an accessory that stopped being used by Superman years ago.

Hephaestus.

Superman and Hephaestus battle mid-air like normal people would on the floor. Batman is too far away to hear the battle cries that must be coming from Hephaestus, but through the binoculars he sees the smile when his fist finally gets through Superman´s defensive movements and own punches. The helmet now worn by Superman shatters under his fist. A head full of black hair jerks. Batman can __feel__  Superman snarl.

Superman crashes Hephaestus into the building next to where Batman is without any sort of preamble.

Batman is on his feet and jumping onto the building on the other side a second before he hears the concrete, glass and other materials give under the godly strength.

The blowback is massive. It sounds like the sky is breaking in two. The world turns dusty and dense. The air is now so dry yet so heavy. It tangles his cape around him, throws off his perfectly planned jump. Had he not thrown out his hook in time, he would have fallen to an almost certain death.

He lands hard on his side, presses his lips as to not let out any sort of sound. He rolls to take the rest of the fall, ends on his back with pain shooting through his arm and shoulder.  He rushes into a crouching position without sparing his arm more than a thought. He can´t see anything. He doesn’t want to breathe because he knows he´ll end up choking and coughing if he breathes in such dry air more than he absolutely needs to. Right now he can only hear things, and all he hears chaos. Red Robin had to come across this very situation, expect he hadn’t avoided the worst of the fight in time.

Thinking about Red Robin is enough to make him focus. Red Robin is hurt because of Superman and Hephaestus. A part of Gotham – even if it’s an abandoned and old one – is getting destroyed by the two of them. If they aren’t stopped soon, they will keep moving until they reach downtown, and then lots of people will be in danger. He can´t let any of it happen. He can´t let Gotham and its people take any other blow from the two of them.

He stays where he is for a few more seconds while the wheels inside his head turn. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes. He taps the cowl, activates the thermal vision. The world goes grey right away, but the smoke disappears, and he doesn't waste any time. He jumps back to the previous building, running and zeroing in on the two figures.

He risks taking a very deep breath. His throat dries right away, but he holds back a cough, takes two batarangs from his belt. He readies them, relaxes the arm that doesn’t hurt. He watches the dark grey figures struggle and shove at each other up in the sky. He throws the batarangs when the bodies are merely inches apart.

As expected, Hephaestus catches one, and Superman avoids the other. Batman tenses, but he doesn’t say anything. He turns the thermal vision off, then he waits.

The figures emerge from between the smoke at the same time. Despite expecting them to come forward angry and aggressive, the two of them come to hover over him for a little while before Superman lands first, arms loose at his side. Hephaestus stays in the air, one eyebrow raised. He´s busy rolling up the lasso Batman had seen cutting through the air.

“Get out of my city,” Batman snaps.

“Nice to see you too,” Hephaestus responds.

Batman grits his teeth. “You hurt Red Robin. Get out. Or I´ll kick you out.”

“Oh really?” Hephaestus scoffs, then hovers a little lower and bends down so his face is closer to Batman´s. “You think you can force us out?”

“Get out.”

Hephaestus grins. “Well, would you look at that. You sound just like him. I suppose the adaptation process is going well?”

“You have one minute to get out of the city.”

Hephaestus tips his head backwards and grins. “Starting now?”

Batman takes a step forward, his good hand balling into a fist. Superman steps between them and shoves Hephaestus back. “Stop that.”

“You want to go again, Supes?”

“Stop being a child. We were at it for hours already.” Superman turns to face Batman, ignores Hephaestus´ not so nice  words. He frowns. “It has been a while since we last saw you. How are you?”

“None of your business. Get out.”

“Dick—”

“Batman. Get out. Both of you. How many times do I have to say it?” Superman´s frown deepens. “What?”

“You´re not okay, are you?"

“As I said. __None of your damn business__ , and don’t even try and start anything. You two crash into Gotham and start destroying buildings because what? You two were playing again? If you want to be idiots with supernatural abilities and play 'who´s got the biggest cock' with each other, do it for all I care. He always had enough with his own bunch of psychos running around to even think of dealing with your predecessors or yourselves here in Gotham. His Gotham.” Hephaestus´ eyebrows go up with the last bit. Superman´s frown turns to a look of concern. Batman – no, not Batman… not __the__ Batman – realizes what he said. He pales under the cowl. When he opens his mouth, all that comes out is stupid, awkward, weak mumbling. “My… my city. Gotham. Batman´s Gotham…” Hephaestus lands next to Superman. He´s starting to look sympathetic. Batman hates it. “Just. Get… get out.”

Neither of them move. Batman wants to punch them both.

Hephaestus crosses his arms. He faces Superman. “I heard the bat hasn’t showed up at a single League meeting for four months,” he says.

Superman keeps his gaze on Batman, but he speaks to Hephaestus. “He hasn’t. In fact, the bat hasn´t been seen outside of Gotham for that long. And even here in Gotham, from what I´ve heard, he isn´t as active as he used to be.”

“I also heard Nightwing´s gone missing.”

“Yeah.”

Batman swallows hard. He shakes his head. “I´m done here. Get out now or I will make you fix all of this property damage on your own.” The cape swishes harder than necessary as he turns. He manages to take two steps before Hephaestus speaks.

“Dick—”

“Batman.”

“No. Dick. You need to talk to someone about this.”

“I don’t have to talk to anyone about anything.”

“You are grieving,” Superman says.

“I´m not the only one. It´ll pass.”

“It will, but bottling it all up isn’t going to make the process easier. Look at how many months have passed. Look at yourself. Listen to yourself, Dick. You don't have to be a carbon copy of him. You don't have to suffer  the way he did.”

Batman doesn’t look back. “I am fine.”

“You´re not,” Hephaestus says. “I´m sorry about what I said earlier, about you sounding like him. I know what you´re going through, and that probably was not what you wanted to hear. I apologize.”

“We apologize,” Superman corrects. “We didn’t mean to end up in Gotham and trash your city. We didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand. I will admit, we were just messing around somewhere safe and trying out the new armor. This was reckless and stupid of us. You´re hurt—”

“Red Robin is passed out and bleeding in the Cave," Batman repeats. He doesn’t need to see them to know his words bring a wince and an appalled expression to their faces.

“We are so sorry,” Superman says again. His tone clearly indicates he isn’t only talking about doing the most idiotic thing Batman had seen in years.

He wants to reply ‘I don’t care’, ‘well, you being sorry doesn’t change any of this, does it?’ or a simple ‘fuck you both, fuck you all´, but he doesn’t. Instead, what comes out is a strained, “I know.”

There´s silence behind him. He ignores it,  keeps his throbbing arm close, then reaches for the grappling hook and starts walking again. The dust has dissipated considerably by now. He can see the other buildings around. He knows where to aim to start the way back home.

“Dick,” Hephaestus calls.

Batman fires the hook. “Yes, Jason.”

“You can count on us, whenever you need anything,” Superman says.

Unshed ears, angry, hurt, burn at the back of Dick´s eyes.

“I don’t need anybody´s help, Conner,” he says. He jumps. Their voices call out his name once, twice.

He pretends he doesn’t hear them as he swings through the air. Eventually, the voices die out. When he's sure he's alone, he lets the tears fall.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Yeah, why did I even think I could make it in time for the jaydick flashfic *facepalm 
> 
> My apologies for any mistakes. I´ll be editing this chapter properly as soon as I can ;A;

**Week 18**  
  
Jason invites him for coffee. This time, he doesn’t come crashing into Gotham without permission. He doesn’t show up outside of Dick´s window with his Greek outfit and armor looking ready for battle. No. Jason calls. Dick appreciates the normalcy of said call.  
  
They meet in the coffee shop where Diana and Bruce used to meet when he and Jason were kids, back when Jason was still Wonder Boy and Dick was the Boy Wonder. They used to tease each other to no end about having the same name, and sometimes, with Diana, they would giggle and pretend they didn’t understand who she was speaking to. Diana always smiled when they played that game. Bruce used to shake his head and referred to each of them with their civilian names to avoid any headaches. Of course, Bruce could only avoid the hyperactive boys for a short amount of time. Once they started climbing into the booth and arguing about who was taller, Bruce had to participate. They needed an unbiased judge, after all.  
  
Dick had been the taller kid at age eleven. Somewhere in their teens, Jason had started growing and had never stopped. Nowadays, Jason is nearly a head taller than him and much more muscular, but nothing else has changed, Dick thinks as he watches Jason approach the table with a tray piled with donuts and two cups of coffee.  
  
Jason drops the tray on the table and slides into the seat across from Dick. He pushes back the lock of white hair he´s sported since Diana took him in as his son and took him to Themyscira. Dick had asked as a kid how he got it. Jason had admitted he wasn’t sure, but it had something to do with Diana´s gods, the tingly feeling he got before he got his powers and Hephaestus himself deciding that if Diana ever got bored with the boy, he´d gladly take over raising him. Diana never got bored with him, of course, and neither had Hephaestus. In fact, since Diana´s disappearance, he had looked over the adult Jason like a good grandfather for a god, even allowing Jason to take his name while on Man´s World.  
  
Diana´s disappearance.  
  
Jason had told him he knew what he was going through. He had been going through something eerily similar for the nearly five years since Dr. Manhattan had made Diana… vanish.  
  
“Dick.”  
  
Dick blinks, stares into bright turquoise eyes. “Yeah?”  
  
Jason nods at the tray. “Take whatever you want.”  
  
Dick looks at all the paper bags and plates on the tray. Slices of cake, croissants, donuts, brownies. It looks and smells heavenly.  
  
He doesn’t feel hungry.  
  
“Thanks,” he says. He reaches for one of the cups, some packets of sugar and a little stirrer. Jason raises an eyebrow. Dick doesn’t reach for the food.  
  
“Not going to eat anything?” Jason asks.  
  
“I´m not hungry.”  
  
“Really. When was the last time you ate?”  
  
“I had lunch.”  
  
“It´s eleven in the morning, Dick. That means you missed dinner and breakfast.”  
  
Dick dumps the sugar into his coffee, stirs, then takes a sip. “I was on patrol last night. No time for dinner. You called me here before I could get breakfast.”  
  
Jason snorts. “Don’t tell me such blatant lies. Even if you hadn’t gone on patrol and I hadn’t called and said I wanted to meet you, would you have eaten something?”  
  
Dick purses his lips. “I´m not hungry.”  
  
Jason rocks back in his chair. He looks like he wants to scold him. Much to Dick´s relief, when Jason speaks, he goes in another direction.  
  
“How´s the arm? I´m guessing not too bad if you´re still going out at night and patrolling.”  
  
Dick glances down at his right arm. It´s bandaged under his shirt and jacket. There are deep purple bruises on his side and shoulder. He´s been taking pain medication for five days now. It´s not broken, there isn’t even a bone fissure, but it´s been a rough week. He´s had to take several falls and block many blows aside from the one on Gotham´s abandoned buildings.  
  
“It´s seen better days,” he mutters.  
  
“Not even going to give me that, huh?”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
Jason leans back in his chair. He sighs. “I told you. I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day. About the buildings. And what I said.”  
  
“Apology accepted. I have to go. Got stuff to do,” Dick says in a rush, pushes back his chair.  
  
“Okay, enough.” Jason moves faster than Dick, is suddenly standing at his side with a hand on his shoulder. Jason pushes down, and Dick collapses back on the chair like a puppet whose strings have been cut. He tries to move. Jason´s hand makes sure he stays rooted in place.  
  
Dick´s mouth drops, feels shame burn deep in his belly. “Use superhuman strength on me again and I´ll feed you that stupid hand,” he growls.  
  
“Stop acting like a royal asshole and maybe I will,” Jason snaps right back. “Cut the act. Cut the bullshit. Quit Bruce-ing around. You suck at it.”  
  
The words make Dick freeze, which he supposes is exactly what Jason had wanted. The hand disappears from his shoulder, and Jason returns to his chair.  
  
“Fuck you,” Dick says.  
  
“You and the horse you rode in on, Richard. I understand you´re hurting, I understand you feel emptiness and fear, but it doesn’t mean you get to bottle it all up and then go around insulting the people who want to help you.”  
  
“I didn’t ask for your help.”  
  
“Yet here I am, about to offer it. You know why? Because you look like absolute shit. Because you mustn’t feel any better, because I understand exactly what you´re going through, and because I´m not going to let you deal with this alone. It isn’t healthy, and you don’t have to.”  
  
Dick glares at him. He keeps his eyes as wide as he can. He can already feel a knot forming in his throat, and he´s not going to succumb to it again. He can´t. “It´s not the same. Diana is still out there, you just haven´t figured out where, or when. She´s alive, Jason. You´ll find her.”  
  
“Maybe I won´t. Maybe no one else will, at least not in this… universe. It´s been five years, Dick. I´ve moved heaven and earth with the help of the gods, of the Amazons, of everyone I know at least thrice. I´ve searched countless times by myself. I´ve talked to everybody, Dick. She isn´t in this universe, or whatever you want to call it. There is no human or divine way to find her.”  
  
Dick keeps his eyes on the table. He tries to breathe past the knot, does his best to focus on Jason´s words instead. He sounds tired. At the same time, he sounds… almost matter-of-fact.  
  
“You haven´t given up on her, have you?” Dick manages to ask.  
  
Jason gives him a dirty look. “Me? Give up on the woman who picked up after my ratty and skinny ass? The woman who fought literal deities to keep me with her? The woman who taught me everything I know and who pretty much raised me so I wouldn’t embarrass the Amazons as a whole? I´ll never give up on her.” Jason snorts, as if what Dick has said was the most ridiculous thing he´d heard. Maybe it is.  
  
“Then I don’t see what you´re talking about when you say you know exactly how I feel. You still have a chance to find her. You can still hope to see her once more. I don’t. He´s dead, Jason. I held his body in my arms. I buried him,” Dick points out.  
  
“You´re grieving,” Jason adds. “And I´m going to forgive your last insensible comment because I know you´re not okay, and that the Dick Grayson I grew up with has much more sympathy, empathy and a less selfish perspective of the world he lives in.”  
  
Dick glares. Jason ignores him, grabs a donut from the tray and digs into it. “In a way, you have no idea how lucky you are, Dick. You have closure, certainty. knowledge about what happened to Bruce, where he is, and from what I heard, you even got to say goodbye. I don’t have any of those privileges. As I said, I´ll keep searching, doesn’t matter how many years it takes me. However, you have to understand. Diana could be somewhere out there, but she could already be dead. She could be someone´s prisoner. She could be being tortured as we speak. Or maybe she has amnesia. She could be in danger. There are a million possibilities, most of which aren’t nice.”  
  
“Does that mean that I´m lucky?” Dick snorts.  
  
“It means that we have both gone through some rough situations in life, and that I understand your grief. I understand that emptiness. I know what it´s like, Dick, and I want to help.”  
  
“I don’t need—”  
  
“How is everyone else doing?” Jason interrupts.  
  
Dick´s head jerks. He frowns, confused. “What?”  
  
“The rest of your family. How are they holding up? You already mentioned Alfred.”  
  
Dick is at a loss for words in the two minutes it takes for his brain to catch up with the words. When he finally grasps the question, he gives the ghost of a smile. “They’re… they’re all doing quite great. They´re moving on,” he says. When Jason only nods his head as if telling Dick to continue, he does. “Tim, Damian and Cass are being so strong, so mature about it. I´ve seen them when they think no one´s around. They are back on patrol, we´re able to sit at the table and… talk without anyone storming off. We already read through his will, and they´re at peace with everything said and left there. We´ve gone together to visit his grave. They miss him so much, but they´re moving on.”  
  
“Alfred?”  
  
“. It has hit him harder than any of us. I´m not surprised, of course… he´s doing his absolute best, Jason. He´s taking it one step at a time. He went into his room, allowed us to turn around the paintings and pictures. He´s starting to smile again. He´s trying. Bruce—” and here Dick can´t help but gasp, clear his throat before his voice breaks. “He would be proud of them all. Of their strength, their willpower, their perseverance.”  
  
“I´m sure he would be proud of you too. Your strength. Your iron will. The rock I´m sure you’ve been for your family since he died.”  
  
Dick´s head jerks once more. He widens his eyes at Jason, struggles to find a comeback, another distraction, anything to not talk about what Bruce would feel right now. Anything to not talk about how Dick himself was feeling.  
  
Dick can´t come up with a single world. He ends up sagging in his chair, glaring at Jason, who sighs. He knows he´s touched a nerve, and he´s glad he did it. It´s a start.  
  
Jason stands up. He leans across the table, stretched out his arm. His fingers graze Dick´s cheek, then slide down to cup his chin.  
  
“This is going to sound almost pathetic, but I´ll say it anyway. You know where to find me if you need someone to be your rock for a change,” Jason muses. He presses his lips against Dick´s forehead in such a gentle and light kiss that Dick is still wide-eyed and frozen by the time Jason picks up all the food and walks out of the shop.

 

* * *

  
  
**Week 19**  
  
As a child and teenager, Dick never appreciated Conner´s subtle gift of silence. When he was younger, Conner´s silences, clipped answers and straightforwardness used to bother Dick. His aloofness and anger management issues made Dick steer clear of Superboy whenever Clark brought him over, or whenever they had to work together. Back then, Conner scared Dick. He seemed difficult to get along with and a walking time bomb. Over the years, however, Dick had seen Conner grow – change – into a much more likable teenager and then adult. He had seen Conner open up slowly. He had seen Conner become stable, reliable, never losing his serious and quiet edge.  
  
It used to irk him so damn much. It used to make him incredibly uncomfortable. Now, as he goes through a folder full of Justice League files while Conner types up a report of his last mission with Jessica and Simon in Rann, he can´t help but be so thankful for his silence. It´s light, relaxed, and he doesn’t feel the need to talk nor disrupt the companionable quietness in any way. They´ve been at it for about three hours now, since Conner showed up at the manor with stacks of folders and a special laptop saying Batman needed to catch up with what the League had been doing for the past fourth and a half months. Dick hadn’t had the energy to complain or kick him out.  
  
After looking through three folders, he feels even less motivated to do so. Partly because he´s tired, partly because Conner´s presence is… soothing. So soothing that if he´d been a cat, Dick is pretty sure he would have already climbed into his lap and let his consistent typing skills and relaxed breathing lull him to sleep.  
  
He shuts the third folder closed, leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes. Sleep sounds so good right now. Then again, sleep has sounded like the best thing ever for weeks now. Between patrol, his insomnia, his nightmares and his day-to-day activities, he hasn’t had much time to rest. He wants to take the night off, wants to crawl into bed, knock back several pills and hope they keep the nightmares at bay. He also knows the shadow over his shoulder won´t let him do it.  
  
“We can stop if you want.”  
  
Dick opens his eyes. Conner hits the keys a couple more times before he shuts the computer. He stretches his arms above his head.  
  
“Are you done?” is all Dick replies.  
  
Conner nods. He gets up and turns at the waist, first to one side, then the other. He rolls his neck, stretches his arms behind his back this time.  
  
“I thought Kryptonians didn´t get stiff,” Dick comments.  
  
“They don’t. We hybrids aren’t so lucky,” Conner tells him with a shrug. He stays standing, wraps his palms around the back of his chair. He eyes the folders. “You´re pretty much done.”  
  
Dick is the one who shrugs this time. “It was easy to focus on what I was reading. Your typing has a calming element to it. It was like the music you hear when you have trouble sleeping.”  
  
“Oh.” Conner frowns, his expression turning confused for a few seconds. He then shakes his head, as if he´s stopping himself from asking a question. “Are you up to speed now?”  
  
“With the alarming number of radioactive meteor showers in Rann´s atmosphere and the horrible bathroom incident with Mera? Yeah, I´m all caught up.” Dick frowns. “I don’t understand why you´re showing me all this, or why you made the effort to bring it all to the manor.”  
  
“Batman is part of the League, Dick.”  
  
“He was. Bruce is dead, Conner.” His voice breaks on the word ‘dead’.  
  
Conner makes the wise decision to not comment on it. Instead, he says, “I know, Dick, and words, especially coming from me, can´t express how sorry I am for your loss.” As he speaks he places one palm on the table, the other on Dick´s shoulders. His blue eyes are filled with sympathy so genuine Dick feels scared.  
  
He twitches, almost as if he´s going to shove Conner´s hand off. “Then why—?”  
  
“Bruce Wayne is dead, but his Batman isn’t, Dick,” Conner deadpans, voice soft. “And his Batman is still part of the League.”  
  
“No, he´s not. I mean. He was part of the League, but not anymore. He´s gone.”  
  
“His Batman isn’t,” Conner repeats.  
  
Dick swallows hard, jerks his away. The chair screeches as he slides it back far enough so Conner can´t reach him. “If you´re here to drag me back to the Justice League so I can take his place, you better leave right now,” he says, and he doesn’t feel calm and soothed by Conner´s presence anymore. His chest starts to hurt, his throat is starting to close up. His eyes are now stinging. Oh no. Please no. Is he going to cry? Again? He can´t… he can´t be so pathetic.  
  
A choked sob manages to make its way out from between his lips. Conner takes one step forward. Dick´s chair crashes to the floor as he gets up and heads for the door.  
  
“Dick,” Conner says. Dick hears the steps behind him, grits his teeth when he feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk to you,” Dick admits.  
  
“Then don’t. I´m not here to drag words and feelings and tears out of you. I´m not here to cause you and make you suppress even more pain.”  
  
“Then why?”  
  
“I´m here to offer a hand. I know what it´s like to be given a role that you stopped wanting when you were a teenager. I understand how heavy it is to take on the burden of someone you´re not. I can relate to how tough it is to fill the shoes of the person you always looked up to.”  
  
Dick lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “You talked to Jason, didn’t you? When did the two of you agree to become the Rescue Dick Grayson from his own misery squad?” he mutters.  
  
“We´re not trying to rescue you, Dick. We´re—”  
  
“Trying to help, I know. I heard you. I heard Jason.” Dick takes a deep breath, looks over his shoulder. “I didn’t ask for your help. Not yours, not his.”  
  
Conner doesn’t even flinch. “That doesn’t mean I won´t offer it and try anyway.”  
  
Dick´s shoulders sag. Conner´s grip tightens around his wrist, and he waits.  
  
“You keep emphasizing how the Batman in the League was his Batman. Is there a particular reason as to why you´re phrasing it in such a way?” Dick finally asks. He turns around, watches as relief flutters over Conner´s face.  
  
“Let´s sit for a few more minutes,” Conner suggests, releasing Dick´s wrist.  
  
Dick nods. Instead of heading back to his chair, though, he walks to the couch on the farthest side of the room, sits down on it and brings his knees to his chest. “You´ve got five,” he says.  
  
Conner nods back. He drops to the floor right in front of Dick, lays his elbows on his knees, props up his chin on top of his fits. “Very well,” he gives in.  
  
Dick licks his lips. “Okay, what wise piece of advice do you have?” he asks, manages to not sound completely sarcastic. “Why do you keep talking about ‘his’ Batman?”  
  
“Because, as I said, the Batman in the League was Bruce´s Batman, just like the Superman in the League was Clark´s.”  
  
“But you´re still in the League nowadays. And you´re Superman.”  
  
“Because I made the choice, and before the Superman figure went back to the League, I made the clear division. I didn’t go back as Clark. I went back as me.” As he finishes, he looks like he just said something extremely important.  
  
Dick rolls the words over in his mind. He tries to find the golden piece of advice, the bomb Conner dropped. He doesn’t find it.  
  
“I don’t understand,” he admits.  
  
Conner deflates a little. His brow furrows. He clears his throat, then tries again.  
  
“You don’t have to be him,” he deadpans. “Just like I didn’t have to be Clark. After… after he was forced to retire and we realized how badly Superman needed to exist, I talked to him. I´m not him. I´m not who he was, even before what happened.”  
  
Conner grimaces. Dick does the same, because the knowledge still stings for him. He can´t imagine how hard it was on Conner, let alone on Clark, to realize his powers, along with the helmet of Fate, were gone after the interdimensional chaos Dr. Manhattan had caused. It was sickening, unbelievable, almost laughable, how that had happened. Diana had never made it back to their planet, their Galaxy, their universe. Mere months later, Clark´s powers were lost, along with Nabu, during the League´s attempts to close a rift left behind by Dr. Manhattan. It had been years since then, and no one had taken it easy. Dick can still recall Bruce´s foul mood after realizing what had happened to Diana, how worse he´d gotten after Clark had become human.  
  
Dick can also recall how, much like with his parents´ death, Bruce never got over Diana´s disappearance and Clark´s loss of… everything he knew. Dick knows Bruce felt guilty. Dick also knows that along with his parents´ death, the loss of his two friends is something Bruce couldn’t get over, up to the day he died. He knows Bruce suffered in self-imposed silence.  
  
Dick feels a hand on his calf. He blinks down at Conner, who´s frowning at him. “Yeah?”  
  
“I lost you, didn’t I?”  
  
“No. No, I was just… thinking.”  
  
“About Bruce?”  
  
“And Clark. And Diana. About all the shit we´ve had to go through.” About how Bruce couldn’t adapt. About how Conner and Jason had. About how he himself hadn’t been able to adapt yet.  
  
Conner nods rather somberly. He squeezes Dick´s calf. “It´s been some rough five or so years.”  
  
“It´s been some rough four or so months,” Dick says with a sigh. He shakes his head. “You were saying? About you not being Clark?”  
  
“Dick, you know as well as I do that I´m not good at any of this. You´re too distracted, and I´m being too subtle.”  
  
“You aren’t exactly known for beating around the bush,” Dick points out.  
  
Conner purses his lips. He squeezes Dick´s calf again. “You´re right. I suppose I should stop wasting both our times and say it once and for all.” He takes a deep breath, and Dick waits, expectantly. “I´m not Clark. You´re not Bruce. We have both been given a job we wanted at one point but didn’t anymore. We both have big shoes to fill, big capes to wear.”  
  
“But you don’t wear the cape anymore.”  
  
“That´s my exact point, Dick. The cape, the awkward underwear worn outside the pants, the red boots, the silly curl, the big smile… that was Clark being Superman. I don’t have his charisma, I´m not as smooth as he was. I´m not as cheerful, but I am hopeful, and as you well know, that´s what our symbol is about. I can still wear the symbol, I can still be Superman to Metropolis and whoever needs him. The issue here is, I can´t be his Superman, so I´m not. Batman is Gotham´s knight. Batman is to Gotham a hero and the bogeyman. That´s the legacy Bruce left you. It doesn´t mean you have to keep Batman alive like he did.”  
  
“Are you suggesting I ditch the cape, the cowl and add blue to the suit?”  
  
“If it makes Batman bearable to you, then yes.”  
  
Dick looks at him like he´s sprouted a second head. Conner´s gaze and hand on his calf remain steady, strong, even warm.  
  
“I brought you files from the League so you can make an informed decision,” Conner goes on. “If you want to leave the League, no one will stop you. Jason chose not to take Diana´s place, and that´s okay. He made the choice not as Wonder Woman or Wonder Man. He chose to leave as Hephaestus. I chose to stay in Clark´s place, to fill his seat and his duty as myself: as the Superman who ditched the cape and decided to wear a helmet because I don’t care much for acting every day to keep my identity hidden.”  
  
Dick groans. His head is starting to hurt. His pulse is hammering the back of his throat.  
  
“You want me to either leave the League or join it as Dick Grayson´s Batman, not as Bruce´s,” he concludes. “You want me to—”  
  
“Find yourself within the cowl. And yes, I am aware of how cheesy it sounds.”  
  
“It isn´t so easy, Conner. I don’t even know how to start… trying.”  
  
Conner shuffles. He gets to his knees, places his palms on the couch on either side of Dick. “I can´t trek through this road for you, but I can walk beside you,” he whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against Dick´s cheek. “I´ll be here when you feel ready.”  
  
His words are a strange echo of Jason´s. Dick should feel disturbed, or at the very least suspicious. Instead, he feels relieved.  
  
When Conner leaves about half an hour later, Dick is still feeling relieved. He feels… comforted, and like maybe he has two people he can talk to if he ever feels the need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the whole thing is while and way too convenient but yeah... I mean... thanks Dr. Manhattan (?)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :D!

**Author's Note:**

> Jason's super suit(?) is based off of [Achilles'](https://goo.gl/images/h6g31R) in Troy. The red cape is a smol detail my best friend wanted, so Jason's got a cape XD.  
> Conner's Superman suit is the one used by Billy Batson in [Futures End](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marvel_dc/images/1/11/Kal-El_%28Futures_End%29_002.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140619132108) because... I mean, I dunno, it just seemed to fit Conner to a tee.  
> Explanations are coming, I promise XD 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)


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